


The Wrong Step

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Johnstrade, M/M, One-Shot, Oops, i tried and i failed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24248380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: No.It was not his fault.It wasn't.Yet, it was.Captain John Watson, a man of good heart and even greater intentions, let the knife drop to the floor, an uneven clattering sound ringing in his ears, the same as before, but the utter fear in his eye said something completely different.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 18





	The Wrong Step

No.

It was not his fault.

It wasn't.

Yet, it was.

Captain John Watson, a man of good heart and even greater intentions, let the knife drop to the floor, an uneven clattering sound ringing in his ears, the same as before, but the utter fear in his eye said something completely different.

Was it his fault?

Please don't let it be.

His family needed him.

Mother would be disappointed.

His father would shun him like a dog, a dog who had just knocked the life out of the hand-crafted pottery on the fireplace.

_'The life'._

Oh.

Dear God.

Captain John Watson sat in front of a man, the man's hair was dyed grey on the tips, which the Captain saw from the glistening light in front of him. The awareness could only strike him every time he glanced into the eyes of the Detective Inspector, the light that reflected off, showing the hardness of his glance, just like how disappointed everyone would be.

Captain John Watson, failure, psychopath, and monster.

Captain John Watson opened his eyes, blinking again. The people staring, the guards keeping eyes on his body, a glaze that was like billions of eyes on his face when his mask was torn off and thrown in a fire. There was no escape, from the _terror_ , the _horror_ , the _understanding_ , the recognition. He was unable to consume this, this bite, a _bite_ , of the bitter world. The sour look that crossed their faces when he was escorted from the room.

Not his life.

It was the monster's life.

Captain John Watson should've taken a step forward, yet he took a step to his right. He couldn't tell you if taking a step to the right was the correct step, but he knew, he had taken the wrong step. The questions, they swirled in the air, forcing the Captain onto the chair, his brain flashing 'danger' over and over again, the lightning that blazed down, crashing into screeches of strings.

Facing the people who once saw him as a hero was like death.

The soldiers who once brought him out of chaos.

He was now the chaos.

To be frank, 'death' was an understatement.

Considering what he knew.

What everyone knew.

"Captain John Watson, I presume?" A stranger said. He was clad in a sharp suit, expensive to say, the pale light reflecting the threads it carried, weaved and intertwined closely. His ginger hair slicked back, not a curl falling out of place, not straying from its spot. His eyes, a pale color under the slight glare of the light, hunting for the slight motion for it to go awry. He was handsome...

Oh.

He was just like ice.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Like everybody else.

Captain John Watson nodded, letting his eyes wander, to the windows and to the skies where the clouds covered up the land like lily pads in the water, drifting off, like his sanity. The man cleared his throat and leaned in, examining John, _deducing_ him.

"You have a therapist?" It was a statement, not a question, the man in the suit _told_ him, _not_ _asked_ him. He didn't wait for John to nod, or confirm, but the twinkle in his eyes said so to that suited man. "Fire her, she has it all wrong." He said, and John turned to him, not believing what escaped his mouth.

Finally, he spoke, but a harsh and surprised tone from the back of the throat was the thing that came out. "What?"

"You are not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson--" Mycroft tipped his head down, then let his eyes meet John's. "-- _You miss it._ " He finished, opening the file in front of him. A small smile forming on his lips, as if he knew something the Captain didn't. And of course, he did. He knew that this man was special.

Captain John Watson was special.

Captain John Watson counted weeks later, he was being freed from his cell, going to meet someone, during the time he was being held on to by the British Government. He didn't want to see anyone, because if he did, he would have to see the utter disgust they held on to.

Captain John Watson.

Doctor Watson.

"John Watson." The man placed a dozen files onto the table where he sat. Right after their 'meet-up', he found out the man was named Mycroft Holmes, he was cold and well-known for his ability to 'deduce' people, which was just reading people.

John found that fascinating.

"The hell?" He murmured.

"You have two choices--" Mycroft said, looking John in the eyes, which was returned with a slight nod, which said 'please... continue'. John noticed how sharp the other's eyes were, like fresh ice on a summer's day. "--You can either face your life now, or you can join me."

"Join you?"

"Yes." He said as if he didn't need to explain. Because? Because he didn't.

John could only say, "I'll join you." Because that's what could slip out his mouth at that time.

John found Mycroft Holmes so fascinating.

"Good." He replied, placing his hand on the desk, allowing John to see his palms, which usually was a sign of trust.

Mycroft found John fascinating.

Not just that.

He found John charming.

As much as he's only sawing a bit of the stone mask John wore.

"I will be creating a new identity for you during the week, for now, you will be known as 'The Flame'." Mycroft nodded, piercingly, which was followed by opening the top folder, which was of John's name, crossed out with red ink, which read 'The Flame'.

Fire destroys.

But flames?

They create warmth.

Protection.

They understand the monster's other side.

"Dr. John Watson, my Flame," Mycroft smirked.

The wrong step.

The right step.

They never said what was what.

Was it wrong?

No.


End file.
